


Davai

by gunoi_galusca



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Era, Fear of Discovery, Innocent, M/M, Masturbation, Messy, Narcissism, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunoi_galusca/pseuds/gunoi_galusca
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky, fresh from his GP win, can't help his arousal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Davai = Let’s go, agreement
> 
> Davai-davai = Hurry up, Give (it to me)

**SLAM!** The hotel room door is kicked closed.

**THUD.** A gym bag hits the floor.

A lithe figure leaps forward two meters into a crouch before striking a clenched-fist pose of victory. “I did it!” He announces to the empty room.

Yuri holds his tightly wound body completely still for a few moments. He savors the tension then slumps forward in release; a harsh grunt escapes his throat.

As he straightens his frame, he shrugs out of his warm up jacket and tosses it aside. He drags slender fingers back through his mussed blonde hair. Clenching his fingers at the crown of his head, he gives the roots a sharp tug before running his hands down his neck, along the ribbon, and finally to the medal dangling against his chest.

He cradles the glinting disc in one hand and gives it a satisfied smile. “The only way this win could have been better is if I had defeated Viktor as well as that little piggy.”

With a reverent press of his lips, Yuri kisses the first of what he anticipates to be many gold medals as a senior competitor at the Grand Prix.  _ Chu. _

He crouches to dig his phone out of his jacket to assess how much time he has to shower and change before dinner.  _ Plenty of time. _ Yuri stands to unzip the skating costume and begins to peel it down his arms as he kicks off his shoes. Letting the fabric drop to his waist and dangle off his hips, he slides his hands down his chest, then finally brushes the glittering material along with the dance belt underneath, down his legs to pool around his ankles.

“I’m so hard right now,” he murmurs to himself while he stares down past his medal at his erect penis.

After shedding his clothes, Yuri makes his way to the bathroom as he runs gentle fingers along the sides of his cock. After he steps onto the tile and stops in front of the mirror, a small smirk twists his lips at the same time his loose fist twists gently around the head of his penis.

He places two fingers from his right hand on the underside of the mushroom-shaped head while using his thumb to circle around the tip of his stretched out foreskin. Fingers from his left hand pluck one nipple to attention as he massages the foreskin back and forth slowly.

Dragging his gaze down the reflection of his athletic body, his dick swells when he sees the gold medal framed in the center of his chest. “Fuck that’s hot. I could come just from looking.”

Moving his hands with a languid determination, Yuri strokes himself more rapidly. He rips sports tape off his left nipple on an inward sucked hiss.

“Oh, yes,” he groans softly. Choosing to slowly peel the tape from his right nipple to savor the lingering ache of pain, he lets out a sharp moan, “Fuck.” Picking the medal up off his chest, he soothes the sting by brushing the metallic curve gently over the dusky peak.

His skating program runs through his mind again. The memory of the audience’s eyes weigh palpably on his naked flesh. Yuri’s eyelids droop to half-mast as he watches his hands move firmly over his throbbing cock. He digs the fingernails of his left hand into his right pectoral muscle to scrape down his chest and down the ridges of his abdomen. His touch lightens and his shoulder dips so that he can tug exquisitely gently at the short, nearly translucent, hairs nestled around his cock.

Reliving the moment of his victory causes tingles to run up from his balls into the shaft of his penis. Yuri twists loose foreskin up and over the head of his dick in a rhythm that causes it to twitch.

His mouth drops open on a breathless, “Oh my god...”

His hand moves more rapidly as the step sequence of his perfect program runs through his mind.

“Davai,” he mumbles while staring himself in the eye and basking in the memory of those moments. His right forearm makes a slapping sound as it comes into contact with the crease between his upper thigh and groin due to faster and more determined movements.

He bites down on his lower lip briefly before it slides free with a wet flip. “Davai-davai.”

His eyes narrow and the memories of the cheers of the crowd surge back into his ears. “Davai.”

Sliding his left forefinger behind the dangling globes between his thighs, Yuri gently pinches his taint; the pain is exquisitely gentle. “Davai!”

His balls draw up closer to the base of his rigid cock sending sperm to his aching shaft. “Davai-Davai!” he lets out on a ragged moan as a pearl of white come beads at the tip of his dick. “DAVAI-DAVAI!”

A shudder jerks down his spine as a prelude to the first spurt of jizz launching onto the sink.

At the same time, a deep thudding echoes from his hotel room door.

**KNOCK KNOCK.** “Davai-davai.”

Groans tear out of his throat as white streaks of ejaculate spurt from his throbbing cock onto the counter and floor. Trying to gain control of his ragged panting, Yuri stares out of the bathroom door from the corner of his eye.

“Davai, Yuri.” It’s Otabek Altin. “Phichit gathers us for dinner.”

The memory of Otabek’s intense gaze staring at him during his program shoves vividly to the forefront of his mind.

In Yuri’s remembering, the other man, his new friend, cups his hand to his mouth and shouts ‘Davai’ in encouragement.

The memory mingles with the harsh echo of his own voice as he was jacking off and the low rumble of Otabek’s voice from through the door.

Yuri’s still firm cock twitches in response to the sensation onslaught and one last burst of seed jumps from the pulsating tip and drips slowly toward the floor on a lengthening string of semen.

“You are hungry?” Otabek inquires from the hotel hallway on the other side of the room’s door.

Yuri fills his lungs rapidly to reply while a wide grin spreads his lips revealing gleaming teeth. “Yes. I am coming.”

He meets his own eyes in the mirror again and reaches for a hand towel to wipe off his thighs as he shouts back, “Let me dress and I will meet you where?”

“We meet in lobby.” The man in the hallway replies slightly louder as his knuckles thump rhythmically on the door in departure.

“Davai-davai,” Yuri murmurs to himself as he hurries to his suitcase for street clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two too many Yuri's in this elevator.

Yuri made sure the hotel room door locked behind him. “Key key key,” he muttered patting himself down. “Ah!” he breathed triumphantly. Pulling out his mobile, he proceeded down the hall to the elevator, his thumbs moving quickly across the screen.

Slowing next to the elevator, he used the toe of one shoe to tap the down button. His thumbs stopped their rapid taps as his mind’s eye pictured what he would have termed social awkwardness if he were able to bring himself to admit such a thing as having made an error.

_ “Hey! Otabek!” Yuri pushed into the shoulder of the taller boy with a force that could be construed as almost vicious. A smirk camped below blonde fringe for a moment as he assessed the quiet man’s mood. “How does it feel to be under me?” He let out a sharp bark of laughter before adding, “At least you are on top of Christophe!” _

_ Yuri slapped his open palm against Otabek’s arm then stalked away trailing laughter in his wake, not noticing the glance exchanged between the aforementioned Christophe and a disbelieving Jean-Jacques… _

**DING!** The elevator door opened before his unfocused eyes.

“Oh. Hey Yurio. Are you- Are you getting on?” said Yuuri.

The small Russian boy narrowed his eyes while sweeping his gaze up, then down, the Japanese skater. “Yeah,” he replied shortly and moved to step onto the lift.

After pounding on the close button like it owed him money, he slumped into the corner farthest away from Yuuri since it was just the two of them in the tiny box.

“Listen. Ah. Yurio.” Yuuri cleared his throat. “I heard from Viktor who heard from Georgi who um.. Who heard from Mila who heard- who heard from…” Yuuri started stammering and trailed off when the blonde boy turned an icy glare his way.

“Just say it, piggy,” he spat.

“Okay well I heard from-” Yuri narrowed his eyes again at Yuuri who started speaking rather rapidly. “Nevermind from who actually but it was what you said to Otabek the other day and I- and I just wanted to let you know that I used to be dense when it came to social cues, I still am actually, but we’re not talking about me we’re talking about you and I don’t mean it like that but my point is what you said could have been taken, um, sexually and I just wanted to let you know if that’s not how you meant it okay hey look it’s our floor bye Yurio.”

Yuri watched the other skater flee the lift that had suddenly become filled with awkwardness. “Hey! What do you mean ‘sexual’?” he shouted after him. “Pfft. Whatever,” he mumbled while stalking off the lift.


End file.
